


Best Worst Friend and Auld Lang Syne

by Innwich



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Blindness, Friends to Enemies, M/M, New Year's Eve, Old Age, Post-Series, Reconciliation, Retirement, Reunions, cross-faction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 19:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5598076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innwich/pseuds/Innwich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tavish had come across many strange things on the Scottish moors, but the last thing he’d expected to run into was a ghost of New Year past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Worst Friend and Auld Lang Syne

**Author's Note:**

> Hover over the lyrics for translations.

Tavish didn’t have to switch on the radio to know it was a cold night out; his windows were rattling in their frames like they were about to jump out of them. Tavish put on two coats and three scarves before he dared venture out into the snow. He took out his cane, locked his door, and made his way down the stone-paved path that curved over the hill.

After the gravel war had ended and his remaining eye had gone bad, he’d gone home and away from cities that had too many people trying to sell him smooth, button-less gadgets that he had no use for. It was quiet out here in the countryside, but the rocky terrains were easy to navigate once he’d gotten used to them, and he’d earned enough to buy himself a comfortable house on the far side of the small village that he’d grown up in. It was nice, too, to settle down somewhere that the DeGroot name had weight and he wasn’t known as just some black Scottish drunk with no eyes.

As Tavish reached the crest of the hill, a man crashed into him with the finesse of a locomotive. Tavish’s chest ached when he sucked in a breath, and the only reason he wasn’t hurt worse was because of the thick layers of clothing he was wearing.

“Ach. Watch where ye’re going!” Tavish said, shaking his cane at the man.

“Tavish?”

For a moment, all Tavish could do was gape. Then his mind was running through a list of creatures that could mimic a man’s voice. Pookas could talk and they liked to trick unsuspecting humans, but they weren’t known to take on human form. The man sounded a lot hoarser than he’d used to, but Tavish would recognize the voice anywhere. Never in a thousand years, Tavish thought he’d hear it again. “Jane?”

“Tavish!” Jane yelled. “Give me a hug, maggot!”

Tavish couldn’t dodge the hug if he wanted to. Before he knew it, he was wrapped in a hug that smothered him in the furry collar of the coat that Jane was wearing. Jane released him, and the suddenness of it left Tavish light-headed. Tavish straightened his cane and tapped it against the ground just to get his bearings again. “Are we going tae ignore that ye killed me millions of times for a pair of boots?”

“Yes!” Jane said. “We’re pretending it never happened.”

“I hope ye got blisters from wearing the blasted things,” Tavish said blithely.

“How do you know about the blisters?” Jane said, sounding dumbfounded.

“Never mind that,” Tavish said. “What are ye doing here, Jane? Ain’t ye supposed to be in America?”

“I’ve come to find you,” Jane said, “and here you are. A job well done, men.”

Tavish wasn’t entirely sure who else Jane was talking to, but he suspected the answer was that he was talking to himself. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done that. Tavish had some questions too, like why Jane was looking for him in the first place when they’d parted on dreadful terms many years ago, but it was too cold to be standing in the snow for an interrogation, so Tavish said, “I’m going tae the pub. Care tae join me?”

“Better yet, I’ll take you to it!” Jane said, and grabbed Tavish by his elbow. “Forward, march!”

Tavish struggled to free his elbow from Jane’s grip, but Jane was nothing if not stubborn. A grenade couldn’t get through that thick skull of his. Tavish hit him in the chest and the cane connected with a sharp snap. It knocked Jane out of his stride and Tavish broke free.

“I oughta whoop yer arse for grabbing me like that!” Tavish said.

“What did I do?” Jane said.

“Ye were pushing me in front of ye. Feel like ye were about tae run me in tae a lamppost,” Tavish said. “Do ye even know where the pub is?”

“Negatory,” Jane said.

Tavish sighed. “Just follow me, aye?”

“Will do!”

True to his word, Jane didn’t take Tavish’s elbow again. Instead, Jane followed Tavish so closely that he kept bumping into Tavish’s arm. He backed off easily enough when Tavish told him to. If there was one thing Jane was good at, it was following orders. Tavish smiled a little at the memories, but stopped himself before his mind reached the gutter.

“I don’t know why you want to live here. No one speaks American,” Jane said.

“Aye, hard to find someone who speaks American when there is no such thing,” Tavish said.

“Lies! I am a proud speaker of the American language!” Jane said.

It was an old argument, and one that had gotten Tavish too many bloody noses and black eyes in the past. He’d hoped Jane had been corrected of his misconceptions at this point, but it’d take more than a day’s work, and there was no use getting fired up over trivial things this early in the evening. “Whatever ye say, Jane.”

The road to the pub was a short one. The pub had been here since Tavish had been a wee lad hiding behind his mother’s skirt. Its wooden chairs were as worn and stiff as Tavish’s back. When Tavish pushed open the door, he was greeted with the sounds of more hustles and bustles than usual. A lot of the tables were occupied, and Tavish had to ask Jane to help him find an empty one. Maybe it’d be a bank holiday tomorrow. Tavish never could keep those things right.

They found a table near the bar, and Tavish was glad to find Ian was manning the bar. The barman had a knack for keeping the beer coming, no matter how busy the pub got. Tavish had a feeling he’d need to be black-out drunk to get through the night.

“A pint of beer for me and me friend, lad,” Tavish said.

Tavish carried the beer back to his table. When Jane didn’t take the beer, Tavish shoved it into his hands. Tavish took a long gulp from his glass. The beer went down bitter and smooth. It burnt in his gut and he felt warm in his chest already.

“You really think I’m your friend?” Jane said lowly, as if he was afraid of being overheard.

“Dinnae ye say we won’t be holding grudges tonight?” Tavish said. “Besides, it ain’t either of our faults. Never woulda guessed those lasses were playing both our teams.”

“Maybe so, but Miss Pauling was and will always be a BLU at heart,” Jane said.

“For God’s sake, Jane, she wore purple.”

“Yes, and purple is more blue than it is red,” Jane said.

“No, it ain’t, and ye bloody know it,” Tavish said.

“In fact, purple is so blue, it’s practically a shade of blue!”

“Lad, give me yer hand,” Tavish said.

“Sure!” Jane said.

Once Tavish petted Jane’s hand and arm, and was sure where his neck was, Tavish grabbed the front of Jane’s shirt. He tugged Jane forwards and sent him sprawling onto the table top. “I’m blind in both me eyes and I can tell ye purple ain’t blue or red! It’s fecking purple!”

“Uncle… Sam…” Jane choked out.

Tavish let go of him, and Jane slid back into his chair.

“I need another drink,” Tavish said.

A group of men were singing outside the pub. They tried to find the door to the pub, and fell on their arses when they walked into a window. From the sound of it, they were having a pub crawl and a damn good time.

Once Ian had taken their orders, one of the men wandered to the jukebox. Tavish heard him inserting coins into the machine and fumbling with the controls. The man stumbled back to his table, as the jukebox changed its records and Glen Daly began to croon:

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot,  
And never brought to mind?  
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,  
And auld lang syne._

The men laughed. “Right on, mate!”

“What day is it, Jane?” Tavish said.

“31st December, American Standard Time!”

“It’s New Year’s Eve already?” Tavish said. “Ach, time flies when ye’re getting old.”

“You’re not old, Tavish,” Jane said. “The withered fossil on your coins will be dead long before you have to wear diapers to bed!”

“That’s a nice thought.” Tavish chuckled. “But I’m nae getting any younger.”

“Youth is overrated.”

“Ye say that now, but one day ye’ll remember the fences ye dinnae get ‘round tae mending and realize no amount of time in the world will be enough for ye,” Tavish said. “Makes ye wish the respawn system works on old age, y’know?”

The jukebox was winding up for the end of a chorus, and the ruckus in the pub grew so loud that Tavish nearly missed Jane’s next words, “Yeah, I know.”

_We twa hae ran about the braes,  
And pou’d the gowans fine,  
But we’ve wander’d monie a weary fit,  
Sin’ auld lang syne._

“Get up and dance, ye lazy poofters!” someone yelled.

Ian gruffly declined the invitation, but many of the patrons in the pub jumped at the offer. One of the men approached Tavish and Jane, but stopped short before he reached their table and retreated back to where his friends were pushing chairs up against the walls. Tavish wouldn’t be surprised if Jane had stared the man down. God knew lesser men had been cowed by Jane.

“Tavish?” Jane said slowly.

Tavish put down his beer. “What is it?”

Jane took his sweet time answering. He swallowed three loud gulps of beer, before he said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Tavish said.

Jane paused again. It wasn’t like him to be hesitant. Tavish had heard some awful ideas from him, like that time he’d decided he would take Tavish out on a movie date so they could bomb a post office on Smissmas, and he’d never seen him hesitate about any of them. It must be something of a truly apocalyptic nature to give Jane pause.

Here went any hope of an uneventful evening.

“Stop twiddling your thumbs, lad.” Tavish sighed. “Let’s have it.”

“What we had, it wasn’t all bad, was it?” Jane said.

It was Tavish’s turn to hesitate. So that was what had been bothering Jane. After all these years, Jane still wore his heart on his sleeve. Tavish didn’t need his sight to read Jane like an open book. They’d been best mates and worst enemies. They’d been more and everything in between. And now, Tavish wasn’t sure what they were anymore, but he supposed the only thing he could give Jane was an honest answer.

“I’ve asked meself that a million times. We had some good times and some oh-so-bad ones that left me wanting tae cry like a wee babe at me mum’s bosom,” Tavish said, “and the truth is, Jane, I would nae be the same man without them. I’d do them all over again if I have tae, the bad and the good, ‘long as I get tae do them with ye.”

Tavish didn’t hear anything from Jane. There wasn’t an angry expletive or an indignant exclamation like Tavish had expected. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if Jane walked out on him right now. But Jane stayed quiet for a long while, so much so that Tavish got worried.

“Jane?” Tavish said tentatively.

And then Tavish was pulled into a tight hug. He felt wetness where Jane’s cheek was pressed against his. Tavish patted Jane on the back, and signaled in the direction of the bar for someone to bring them another round of beer.

After Jane was done sniffling into his shoulder, Tavish settled Jane back in his seat. Tavish raised his glass of beer. “How about a toast? Tae happier times?”

Jane wiped off his snot wetly, and knocked his beer against Tavish’s. “To old times.”

_And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere,  
And gie’s a hand o’ thine,  
And we’ll tak a right gude willie waught  
For auld lang syne._

**Author's Note:**

> To old friends and old enemies, wherever they are.


End file.
